


To the Hall of the Winter King, or: How Mr Allen Saved Christmas, Being an Account of Certain Things That Never Happened in the Year 1873

by misura



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Christmas, Community: kradam_holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2825516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>To say that Kris Allen was a spy would be an injustice, an insult and also fairly accurate.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Hall of the Winter King, or: How Mr Allen Saved Christmas, Being an Account of Certain Things That Never Happened in the Year 1873

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sperrywink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sperrywink/gifts).



> this fic was originally posted Christmas 2010 at kradamholidays

_time and place revealed. the comments of politicians. public opinion is voiced._

Although it would eventually go down in history as one of the most extraordinary White Christmases of the nineteenth century*, on December 25th, 1873, as the day dawned, it did not look in the least bit likely that it would be any kind of White Christmas.

Firstly, it rained (which was so common an occurence in London that it barely warranted commenting upon) and secondly, there wasn't a single Christmas gift to be found in all of London and thus, according to a great many people, it wasn't really Christmas, because you couldn't have a proper Christmas if there weren't any gifts.

"It's a government conspiracy," proclaimed Mr Archuleta, the Italian ambassador who had somehow ended up leading the opposition in the House of Lords and Ladies and Other People, to the ill-respected newspaper _News From All Over_. ( _The London Times_ later that same day quoted him as having said it was 'a government coverup', which was a different kind of beast altogether, as Ms Underwood was overheard to comment to Ms De Garmo.)

"It's not a government conspiracy," Mr Cook said in his address to the House later that day. "Or a government coverup," he added, when informed of Mr Archuleta's revised opinion. "It is, in fact, Christmas," which was pushing things too far, people felt. "A day to be spent with our loved ones," which was a nice enough sentiment, although of course everyone knew that in Mr Cook's case, he meant Mr Archuleta, who was right there, and whose company Mr Cook could therefore enjoy quite well without any need to go home.

Ms Clarkson probably summarized it most clearly when she said: "It's a damn peculiar business."

 

* It didn't, actually. But that's just because history gets written by people who don't really believe in Christmas, or who understand that in between the wars, the politics, the wars, the famines, the wars, the plague and the wars, it would be nice to include stuff like Christmas, too.

_Kris Allen is not a spy, no really. a mother's love. a civil servant's dedication._

To say that Kris Allen was a spy would be an injustice, an insult and also fairly accurate. The morning of the 25th found him in bed, recuperating from a run-in with a person who had never existed in a location where he had never been, engaged in business that was nobody's business at all. Needless to say, the run-in had never happened either, and the only logical conclusion therefore would be that Mr Allen was the sort of clumsy person who would injure himself by running around holding a knife, which would be an injustice, an insult and not at all accurate.

His landlady, who also happened to be his mother and who knew her son as well as any mother knows her son (that is to say: better than her son would like, but not as well as she thought herself) had been told that he was ill.

When a visitor showed up on her doorstep at around eleven, therefore, she informed him her son was not to be disturbed, subtly hinting at the fact that the strain of any kind of visitor might result in her son taking his last breath and departing this earth for good. *

Mr Fuller, being a government official, ignored her. His orders were to fetch Kris Allen, therefore, nothing else would do but for him to fetch Kris Allen.

Mrs Allen's protests notwithstanding, he proceeded up the stairs to the small apartment housing his prey. Upon opening the door, both he and Mrs Allen were forced to conclude two things, those being that firstly, the apartment was empty and secondly, that any man capable of climbing out of a window on the second floor had to be in tolerably good health.

 

* In a way, of course, she was quite right in this. But this aside.

_Kris possesses wicked ninja skills. invisibility. the mage and the civil servant._

After having accomplished the daring feat of escaping from his own home, Kris Allen proceeded to a meeting that never took place in a location that cannot be disclosed. Having received completely mysterious and unknowable orders, he then proceeded to eat some breakfast.

When the Bigger Jane struck twelve, he headed for the Tower. In uncivilized times, this building had served as a prison; in the current age, it served as headquarters for the Collegium of Mages, who claimed they enjoyed the company of ghosts and were also known to provide guided and unguided tours to certain foreign visitors to Her Majesty the Queen.

There appeared not to be sitting anyone behind the desk a small sign proclaimed to be the 'reception desk - visitors please report here or be turned into an insignificant animal of our choice'.

"I have an appointment at five past twelve with Mr Cowell, please?" Kris said, not about to do someone the discourtesy of ignoring them merely because they happened to be invisible.

No answer being forthcoming, he elected to pretend the invisible receptionist had directed him to one of the uncomfortable looking seats that had been set against the wall in a clear attempt to discourage anyone from lingering.

Perhaps ten seconds after he had sat down, a door appeared in the wall directly opposite him and swung open to reveal a fairly tall, fairly humorless looking man.

Kris rose and extended his hand. "Kris Allen."

Mr Cowell seemed disinclined to shake his hand and peered down at Kris in a way that suggested to Kris the other man considered him to be too short.

No introduction appearing to be forthcoming, Kris lowered his hand and decided to get down to business. "Mr Seacrest informed me I am to support one of your mages in an expedition."

Actually, Mr Seacrest had informed Kris that the situation was to be reversed, i.e. that a mage would be coming along to offer Kris any magical support he might wish for, but it was well known mages in general and Mr Cowell in particular reacted poorly to any suggestion that they might, in fact, not be in charge of anything save themselves, and that only insofar as Her Majesty's government allowed for it.

"Mr Seacrest has somehow not seen fit to inform me of this," Mr Cowell informed Kris in a tone of voice that was neither friendly nor polite. "You may inform Mr Seacrest that he may wish to reconsider his childish promise to not speak to me for a week."

Kris would have bowed politely, had it not been for the fact that Mr Cowell was standing directly in front of him and too close. "You may consider me to be speaking for Mr Seacrest in this matter."

"His mouth is quite unlike yours." Mr Cowell appeared chagrined by this observation.

"Regardless, I assure you my words are like his own," Kris said.

"You might make a passable frog. Do you sing, by any chance?"

Kris was slightly taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

"Sing 'London Bridge' for me and I will consider waiving the formalities on your request," Mr Cowell said, his tone that of an impatient man feeling extremely generous.

_London bridge. Adam's voice precedes him._

It was well known that in the year 1619, London bridge had fallen down. It was not quite so well known that it had done so, not due to any consutrction flaw, but rather because a little child had sung that it was falling down.

The child had grown up to become one of Britain's finest mages, which either went to show that people always deserved a second chance, or that mages could really get away with anything.

Kris was not a mage. If he were to sing about anything happening, it was highly unlikely that this thing would, in fact, happen - unless he were to sing about something that had been likely to happen to begin with. On the other hand, Kris disliked bullies, and Mr Cowell struck him as someone who either bullied people or made them not speak to him for a week.

It seemed the two of them were at an impasse. Kris had his orders and they required Mr Cowell to appoint one of his mages to accompany Kris; Mr Cowell had his pride and an unpleasant personality.

Things might have gone poorly, had it not been for a third person walking into the reception area.

"Kris? Kris _Allen_?"

Mr Cowell frowned but didn't turn. Kris, feeling contrary, didn't frown but did turn.

_first hug. games. second hug. Adam. third hug. Mr Cowell's scowl (try saying that really fast three times in a row?)._

Kris had never before seen the person facing him now. He was many things Kris was not, such as tall and a mage, and he was also attractive in a way that suggested much unnecessary effort. His hair looked a little dangerous.

"Yes?" A friendly smile seemed called for.

"Kris! It's really you!" A hug seemed entirely too familiar, but catching sight of Mr Cowell's scowling face made Kris decide now was not the right time or place to raise any objections. Then, of course, there was the whispered "Just play along, all right?" in his ear, which entirely removed any reservations Kris might have been inclined to display.

"Ah," Kris said, which seemed to be taken for a request to be hugged once more, prompting a whispered: "Sorry, name's Adam," which was, yes, probably something Kris would need to know if they were going to pull this off. "Adam," Kris said.

"You're looking for a mage?"

Mr Cowell's scowl appeared to be frozen on his face. "Clearly, he found two already."

"I'm available!" Adam said. "In fact, I am _very_ available."

"Ryan would never forgive me if I sent you off with some poor innocent like Mr Allen here," Mr Cowell said dismissively.

Adam beamed at him. "Exactly."

Mr Cowell's expression turned pensive as he regarded Adam and then Kris, and then Adam again. "You may have a point there. Fine, why not? Let's see how he's going to manage to yell at me if he's not talking to me."

Adam hugged Kris a third time.

Kris decided there were worse things in life that being hugged, such as being about to embark on an expedition with someone who seemed to want to hug you all the time for no discernable reason.

_Adam buys a ship. luggage. clothes are taken off._

The ship Mr Seacrest had arranged to carry Kris and Adam to their destination was sturdy and too small to have space for all of Adam's luggage, which should have been a reason to either dump Adam or some of his luggage, but somehow led to Adam finding them a new ship.

"Why travel in discomfort?" Adam said, contentedly looking out over the deck of the ship as its sailors prepared to cast off. He looked, Kris thought, as if he hadn't simply bought passage but rather as if he had bought the ship.

Kris hoped Adam wasn't really that rich.

"We're not going to be traveling by sea all the time, you know."

Adam shrugged. "It'll be at least a week."

Kris tried to remember how many bags, cases, trunks and hat boxes it had been. He'd lost count at about twenty, and that hadn't been anywhere near half of it. "You need that many clothes for seven days?"

"I like to be able to have some choice in what I wear," Adam said a little tartly. "I can't help it that's probably beyond your comprehension."

"Hey!"

Adam smiled at him in a way that made Kris wish he'd kept his mouth shut. "Was that insulting?"

"Somewhat, yes." Kris didn't think that being able to pack for seven days (plus three more, plus the return trip) and not need more than two bags was anything to be ashamed of. It was practical, was what it was. Sensible. Efficient.

"You should let me make it up to you," Adam said.

Kris decided that perhaps he should have seen that one coming. "What did you have in mind?"

Adam leaned in closer in a way that had Kris brace himself for another hug. Instead, for once, Adam kept his hands to himself. "You and me, in my cabin ... "

"I'm not having sex with you!" Kris yelped. "I barely know you!"

Adam smacked him very lightly. "You and me, in my cabin, _trying on clothes_. After all, I brought plenty - must be something in there that suits you."

"Oh," Kris said.

"Not that I don't like _your_ idea, too," Adam said. "In fact, the more I think about it - "

"Let's go try on some clothes!" Kris said quickly.

_time moves quickly when the author cannot think of anything for the characters to do except for them to become seasick. Adam does not get seasick._

On the first day, there was trying on clothes and listening to a thirty-minute lecture on tweed and why it really didn't go well with Kris's eyes (which was ridiculous; tweed came in plenty of variations and it was nice and warm and reasonably easy to clean).

"About what I said earlier," Kris said as they were taking a break with hot chocolate and cookies, "I didn't mean - "

"Forget about it and I'll pretend I did, too," Adam said. "I can't control my dreams, of course - or actually, I _can_ , but never mind that. My point is: I'd love to have sex with you, but I respect your wish to get to know me better first."

 

On the second day, there were whales, which Kris thought was pretty neat, if also a little bit intimidating, because the whales were _huge_ and their ship seemed somehow less so.

"I can hear them sing!" Adam said to Kris, looking delighted and happy and sort of making Kris want to hug him for proving to not be thinking about clothes or other unimportant things _all_ the time.

 

On the third day, there were no more whales.

"So ask me something," Adam said.

Kris blinked. "Ask you something about what?"

"Ask me something you want to know about me before you'll have sex with me."

 

On the fourth day, Adam spiked Kris's hot chocolate, which was a low, low trick and also not at all effective in getting Kris to ask Adam any questions, although he vaguely remembered doing a lot of talking himself. Kris had no idea what about, though, and Adam just smiled mysteriously when Kris asked him, which probably meant Kris hadn't actually said anything of the least importance, such as how he sort of felt like maybe he was falling in love with Adam, which was a silly notion anyway.

 

On the fifth day, Kris got seasick.

"You're seasick!" Adam said in much the same tone of voice he'd used when telling Kris about the whales' song. This time, it didn't make Kris want to hug him, though.

"I'm not seasick!" Kris said mostly to be contrary. "I just ate something that disagreed with me."

"Do you really want me to introduce you to the cook?" Adam asked, proving once more that he was rather more devious than someone who was not a spy had any right to be. Also, Kris thought Adam was displaying a slightly disturbing knowledge of how Kris's mind worked.

 

On the sixth day, Adam played nurse.

He'd dragged Kris off his cabin the day before, which probably proved that Kris was, indeed, seasick, and then he'd put Kris in his bed, which was sort of sweet (the gesture) and also incredibly soft (the bed) even if Kris also had a perfectly serviceable bed in his own cabin.

"You have a _nurse's outfit_?" Kris asked, weakly and perhaps a little shrilly.

"Say 'aah'?"

 

On the seventh day, they reached the ice.

_what Kris wears to stay warm. dogs. due north._

The sled offered space for only a limited amount of luggage, and since Adam was tall (as Kris pointed out with perhaps a hint of a smirk), he had to trade in some of his luggage for comfort. All in all, Kris estimated that perhaps one fifth of Adam's original luggage stayed with them on this second leg of their trip, by dogsled to the heart of the country where it was always winter and where all Christmases were white.

Kris had put on mittens which Adam proclaimed to be cute, and a cap which Adam told him would get his hair all mussed up ('but in a cute way,' he added) and a scarf which Adam tsked at. Adam himself seemed unbothered by the cold, although at least his outfit didn't display any skin below the neckline, and Kris suspected the high collar might not be purely decorative.

"Have you ever driven a dogsled before?" Kris had volunteered for the position, fully expecting the answer to his question to be 'no', but on the other hand, Adam being Adam, it seemed prudent not to take anything for granted.

"I'm good with animals and other cute things," Adam said, or Kris thought Adam said, and then: "Yes," which seemed clear enough.

"You've been here before?" It was not inconceivable, Kris supposed. Granted, the directions were hardly a secret, but then again, _someone_ must have actually traveled to the Northpole before, to know for certain it was, in fact, the place where Father Christmas lived.

Adam chuckled. "Tell me where we are, exactly, and I'll answer that."

_they're called huskies. being cold makes Kris grumpy. dinner._

Kris's watch had stopped working at about the time they'd reached the ice, for all that it was such a simple form of technology Kris barely thought of it as a piece of technology at all. He halted the sled when Adam told him they'd been driving for about six hours, muscles aching in spite of the breaks they'd taken along the way.

The dogs barely seemed tired at all, which Kris tried to feel happy about instead of jealous, which was a ridiculous emotion to feel, given that _they_ were the ones pulling the sled, while Kris was just the guy giving them directions they hardly needed most of the time.

Presumably, they knew the way. Maybe Kris could have just spent today wrapped in a warm blanket or ten, next to Adam.

"Kris? Everything all right?" Adam didn't sound very concerned. Kris kicked at the snow. It didn't make him feel any less cold or miserable or grumpy.

"Fine."

Adam remained silent for a moment. "You'll feel better with some hot chocolate in you," he said at last, sounding a bit subdued, as if perhaps it had occured to him only now that to Kris, at least, this trip wasn't all fun and games.

"Where are we supposed to get hot chocolate?" Kris snapped, because now that Adam'd mentioned it, of course Kris would be thinking of how great a nice cup of hot chocolate (or hot tea or hot coffee or hot soup) would be.

Adam chuckled and Kris smelled something sweet and delicious and chocolate-y.

"I could kiss you," Kris said as Adam handed him a huge, steaming mug.

"Any time," Adam said, grinning, and Kris would have made some sort of witty reply to that, except that then Adam magicked up a hot meal, which left Kris a little speechless because all right, he knew Adam was a mage and everything, but this simply seemed entirely too easy.

_Adam names a dog. Kris names a dog. nuptial arrangements._

"I think I'm calling that one 'Snowflake'." Adam pointed at one of the dogs. "Because it's got that white spot near its nose."

The man who'd provided them with the dogsled hadn't mentioned any names. In fact, he'd barely spoken at all, except to grumble a bit when Kris had handed him the money that he'd been told was the agreed upon price for the use of the sled. And then Adam'd given him a bit more money, and the grumbling had stopped, although by then, Kris had felt like doing some grumbling of his own.

"They've all got white spots near their noses."

"I can't name all of them 'Snowflake'," Adam said practically.

Kris rolled his eyes. "Okay, so what are you going to name the others?"

"I don't know. Why don't _you_ name them?"

"Because you're the one who wants the dogs to have names?"

"I scoff at your logic," Adam said. "Come on, just one of them."

" 'Whitey'." Kris pointed. "That one."

Adam stayed silent for a full minute. "All right, that's it. If we ever get any pets, _I'll_ do the naming. 'Whitey'? _Seriously_?"

"Got you off my back, didn't it?"

Adam snorted and shook his head. "Nice try, but no cigar. As to your suggestion I was ever _on_ your back - only in my dreams, so far."

"Mine, too," Kris said, before he could really think about what he was saying. Then, once he did think about it, it seemed sort of too late to take it back. "You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?"

"Prolonged exposure to my presence has been known to cause sexual fantasies," Adam told him. "Other than that, no - only that one on the ship, with the feathers and the whipped cream."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kris said, not sure whether to be relieved or seriously concerned, yet reasonably certain he'd have remembered a dream involving Adam and feathers and whipped cream.

_stripping. is this a blanketfic? the author claims writing a blanketfic was not the point._

Magical hot chocolate notwithstanding, by the end of their third day on the ice, Kris felt like he'd never be warm again. He wasn't hungry and his muscles didn't even feel too sore this time; he merely wanted to curl up and sleep - and then wake up and discover this had all been a dream.

Adam hugged him a little more tightly than usual, which was annoying and Kris would have simply shoved him away or told him to play nice and not crush Kris, except that Kris was really feeling too tired to manage much more than a few half-hearted swats in the general direction of Adam's hands.

Then Adam magicked up some sort of igloo, which was cool, since he magicked it up right around them, so Kris didn't even have to do any walking, except that then Adam started to take off Kris's clothes, which was not cool.

"Don't think I'm not tempted," Adam said, when Kris worked up enough energy to make his displeasure known, "but there's a time and a place for things like that, and right here with you half-frozen to death isn't it."

Kris's mittens came off, and Adam sighed happily before starting on Kris's scarf.

"You're an idiot, you know?" Adam went on. "Would it have killed you to say something sooner? I suppose I could have noticed something, too, but once I start thinking like that, I'll have thought myself in a guilty depression in no time at all, and then where would we be?"

"Hands. Cold," Kris said.

"They are not! My hands are perfectly - oh." Adam took Kris's hands in his own. "How's that?"

"Better." Kris's scarf came off without Adam's hands moving.

"How are your lips?" Adam asked brightly.

_this is not a blanketfic. Adam does not kick ass (o rly). a kiss._

"Don't get the wrong idea, we're just - "

"Cuddling," Kris said, because they were, and he was all nice and warm again thanks to Adam, so he figured he was going to let Adam have that one.

Adam shifted a little in a manner that suggested he was under the mistaken impression that if he hid the proof, Kris wouldn't realize Adam's ambitions went somewhat beyond mere cuddling. "I was going to say 'sharing bodyheat'."

"That, too," Kris said drowsily.

"Well, _I'm_ sharing bodyheat, anyway. _You're_ sharing body _cold_ or something like that. Is that even a word? It should be. You could have died, and I was right there all the time. That's really kind of scary, you know? What would I do if you go and die on me, hm?"

"Kick Santa's ass?" That was the mission, after all, the whole point of their being here.

Adam kissed him, very lightly, on the cheek. "I'm not an ass-kicking kind of guy. That's your job."

"Yours is nice," Kris said.

"My job?" Adam asked, sounding surprised, then: "Oh. Thank you. Nice to know you've been paying _some_ attention, at least."

" 'm a spy," Kris murmured. "Notice _everything_."

"Yes." This time, Adam kissed him on the lips, and Kris would have done something with that, except that he was still pretty damn tired. "You do."

_nocturnal conversation. Ockham's razor applied. Kris falls asleep again._

"How come you're so warm all the time anyway?" Kris asked.

"I practice a very healthy lifestyle?"

Kris shook his head, although Adam probably couldn't see the gesture in the dark. "Is it magic?"

"Have you ever heard of Sherlock Holmes?"

"Of course."

"The simplest explanation is often the right one. You could think living healthy keeps me warm, or that it's some sort of magical trick, but there's also a very simple and thus much more likely explanation for it."

"Really?"

"It's just that I'm hot."

"Modest also," Kris said, drifting off to sleep again.

_Kris wakes up. Allison is an elf (this is a hint). Santa has a name._

When Kris opened his eyes again, there was an elf sitting on the edge of his bed. This came as something of a surprise because firstly, Kris would rather expect an elf to have more interesting things to do than watch him sleep, and secondly, when he'd gone to sleep, there had not been a bed.

The bed had not been in a room, either, let alone one that smelled of pine and had a nice, warm fire burning in the hearth, and a window, and a painting of a group of reindeer on the wall.

To add insult to surprise, the elf appeared to be taller than he was, which was simply unfair. Everyone knew the elves were 'Santa's _little_ helpers', after all.

"You're awake!" she said.

"You're an elf!" Kris said, aiming for the same sort of 'stating the obvious and pretending to be surprised about it' tone she'd spoken it, but sounding merely snippy. "Sorry. Um. I'm Kris."

"I _know_." She beamed at him. "I'm Allison."

"Allison." It didn't sound like a very elf-like name. "Is this a dream?"

"I should hope not! Adam's kind of the jealous type, you know."

"Um," Kris said.

"Of _course_ you know. I've known him for _ages_."

Kris figured that 'ages' in this case probably meant 'somewhere in between two years and two hours'. Perhaps Adam had magicked them all the way to their destination - Kris didn't know why, if that was possible, they'd bothered with the ship and the dogsled, but he was not a mage; maybe Adam could only teleport people over short distances or something.

"So," he said, feeling sort of awkward. "You know Father Frost?"

Allison cocked her head. "He says it makes him feel old when people call him that. So most of the time, we just call him by his name."

"His name," Kris said slowly. "He has a name?"

"Well, duh," Allison said.

Kris supposed that made sense, more or less. Everyone had a name, after all - well, not the dogs, unless Adam had come up with seven more names by himself after all, but the man who took care of them probably had names for all of them.

It was good to know Father Frost had one, too. Kris was here to ask him for a favor, after all; if addressing him by his name would put the man in a better mood, that could only be a good thing.

"By the way, where's A- " he started, when the door to the room swung open to reveal what would have been the object of his inquiry.

"You're awake! Finally!" Adam said and then, to Allison: "Shoo," which was rather a rude way to treat an elf, Kris felt, especially one who could provide them with valuable information about how to stay on Father Frost's good side.

On the other hand, Allison didn't seem particularly offended, or in a hurry to leave, for that matter. "Will there be any making out?"

"Not with you in the room," Adam said.

"Or ever," Kris said, which got her to exchange a look with Adam that made Kris rather suspicious but which also got her out of the door. "Just kidding."

"I should hope so."

_an audience announced. Kris goes solo. a distraction._

"So," Kris said, perhaps half an hour later, "this is where Father Frost lives, huh?"

Adam frowned a bit, like maybe he didn't think half an hour had been long enough. "Do you like it?"

Kris decided he was going to assume Adam was refering to the house. "Well, all I've seen of it so far is this room. It's nice and warm, I guess. So when can we talk to the man in charge?"

Adam had to have been _somewhere_ while Kris had been sleeping. Hopefully, it had been to set up an appointment with the guy who had, for some reason, decided to cancel Christmas this year.

"You have an audience this evening at seven," Adam said.

Kris decided he did not entirely like the sound of that. " _I_ have an audience?"

"Don't worry, you'll do great."

"I thought this was going to be a team effort." Adam looked faintly guilty. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"One week and you practically have me eating out of your hand," Kris said, trying not to sound like he was blaming Adam. "What happened to all that charm when we actually _need_ it? Because between the two of us, _I'm_ not the pretty one."

"I was considering showing you around a bit but on second thought, we can just stay here," Adam said.

Kris decided it was a bit difficult to stay angry at Adam for having done whatever he had done when Adam was so very clearly not at all angry at Kris, and possibly even a little bit sorry, although Kris was pretty sure that was only an act.

_a map. a door. a cliffhanger._

Kris wished he hadn't let Adam talk him into wearing one of Adam's (magically resized) outfits, instead of the perfectly serviceable (if perhaps not entirely new) suit Kris had brought along for this very occasion. Adam had assured him he looked 'scrumptious', as if that ought to settle things.

Kris was not at all convinced 'scrumptious' was really the sort of look one ought to be sporting when being received by Father Frost. Besides, it was all well and good for _Adam_ to say Kris looked 'scrumptious' but what if other people thought so, too? Kris wasn't the kind of spy who seduced people while sipping alcoholic drinks; he took his job seriously. He also wasn't fictional.

The house (practically a mansion, really) was big enough to get lost in, which was presumably why Adam had provided him with a map to where he was supposed to have his audience. Kris half-wished Adam had walked him to the door instead, or some such thing. He had no idea what had happened between Adam and Father Frost, and it seemed a poor idea to bring it up during the audience.

It wasn't important, anyway, Kris told himself firmly. All that mattered was Christmas.

Turning yet another corner, Kris finally reached what he sincerely hoped to be the spot Adam had marked with an x. There was a large door with a note on it saying: 'Knock here for audience', which seemed a hopeful sign. Kris knocked.

After perhaps five minutes, Kris knocked again, softer this time - he didn't want to seem impolite or impatient, after all, and there might well be an excellent reason why he was being kept waiting.

The door opened at a crack this time. Kris wasn't sure if that meant he was supposed to come in, or if someone would come out and fetch him once Father Frost was ready for him.

"Are you coming in, or what?" a vaguely familiar voice asked softly.

Kris took a deep breath and stepped forwards, opening the door.

_Kris walks down a hall. a throne. high treason narrowly avoided._

The room was bigger than he'd expected and far less well lit. He seemed to be standing in some sort of hall, the only light provided by candles standing at intervals in alcoves in the wall. At the other end of the hall, Kris could vaguely make out some sort of dais, with something resembling a throne on it.

"Are you going to stand there staring all night?" Allison (for it was her voice Kris had heard before) asked.

"You never told me his name," Kris whispered, although he probably could have spoken out loud without being overheard by the person on the throne.

"Too late now. Just _walk_." Allison gave him a soft push in the right direction. "Go on, Kris. He's waiting. He gets sort of cranky when people keep him waiting."

Kris started walking, feeling intimidated by his surroundings in spite of himself. It didn't help that Allison stopped talking once he'd started moving; the silence added to the somewhat somber mood of the room. It made Kris feel small, out of place. When it came right down to it, what right did Kris have to make any demands? Everyone always took Christmas for granted, like they'd _earned_ it each and every year, but if you looked at it logically, Father Frost didn't owe anyone a thing.

It wasn't as if he got a cut of the taxes or some such thing. People were grateful to him, sure, and Kris thought it had to be nice, to put a smile on everyone's face and giving them exactly the present they wanted. Still, how many people actually bothered writing a note to say 'thank you'?

"Kris Allen," Allison said, her voice deep and her tone solemn. Kris wondered how she had managed to slip past him; he was reasonably sure she'd been behind him when she'd told him to start walking. "Out of all mortals, you have been chosen to present the petition of the people of England."

The person sitting on the throne was still nothing more than a vague shadowy shape. Kris thought he or she was tall - taller than Kris, which was nothing new, although perhaps not quite taller than Adam.

"Your heart is pure and your goal is noble," Allison went on, doing nothing at all to make Kris feel even a little bit more comfortable. The opposite, perhaps; Kris knew quite well he was merely a perfectly ordinary guy, nothing special. "On behalf of he who rules here, I bid you welcome. You may kneel."

Kris's knees did feel a little bit wobbly, and Kris thought that if the silence had lasted long enough, he might have committed high treason and knelt to a person not Her Majesty the Queen.

Happily, before he could do so, the figure on the throne rose and said: "Don't."

And then the lights came on.

_a revelation. occasionally all three. tempers lost._

" 'You may kneel'?" Adam said, voice shrill. " _'You may kneel'_?"

Allison shrugged. "So I got a teensy tiny bit carried away, so sue me."

"Um," Kris said.

"Kris!" Adam sort of bounced down the dais, which made Kris wonder how a bit of darkness had been able to make Adam appear sort of shadowy and sinister and intimidating. "Don't mind Alli, she's just _such_ a drama queen."

"Ha!" said Allison. "Look who's talking, Mr. 'I Can Only Find True Love If He Doesn't Know Who I Really Am'. The candles were totally _his_ idea, just so you know."

"You - _you're_ Fa- " Kris started, before he remembered Allison's warning.

"Fabulous? Fantastic? Fascinating? All three?" Adam beamed.

Kris remembered the dogsled, and almost freezing to death. He remembered the seavoyage, and barely being able to keep any of his meals down. He remembered the Christmas that wasn't.

"I don't believe you!" he said. "All those people - and all this time, you could have done something about it!"

"Oh, come on, Kris. It's not like anyone got hurt." Adam rolled his eyes. "It was fun. Not Christmas, I mean," he added quickly, as Kris's expression turned a bit murderous. "The trip. Getting to know you."

"The lies. Getting to almost kill me. Was that fun for you?" Kris demanded. "And to think I actually bought it! It makes me sick. _You_ make me sick."

"Hey!" Adam said, beginning to look a little annoyed. "Who's here to ask a favor of whom, exactly?"

"Stuff your favor!" Kris snapped. "I don't need any favors from someone like _you_."

"Um, guys," Allison said. "How about you both take a time-out. Then, when everybody's calmed down a bit, the two of you can straighten things out."

"I have nothing left to say except that I'm leaving." Kris turned around and started walking back to the door he'd used to enter.

"Good luck!" Adam called after him. "Bet you won't even find the exit!"

_Kris explores the mansion. despair. conversation is resumed._

Adam had been right, Kris thought sourly. About a way out of the mansion being hard to find, that was; Kris had been exploring the place for the past two days now, and all he seemed to find were rooms. Some rooms were big, some were small; some were square or rectangular, some were round or oval. Some were filled with clothes or shoes or jelwery, some were empty.

He hadn't seen either Allison or Adam, nor anyone else. It would have been a little spooky, except that Kris was still too angry to feel even a little bit afraid, and anyway, he knew Adam wouldn't harm him, no matter how much of a jerk he might be. Adam wouldn't even let him go hungry, given that whenever Kris returned to the room he'd begun to think of as his, there stood a meal on the table, waiting for him.

Kris didn't know what date it was; from the beginning, he'd known they wouldn't actually be able to make Christmas happen the way it should have. Mr Seacrest had hinted that perhaps the government ought to organize next year's Christmas. Kris had managed not to say what he'd thought of that idea.

Christmas was ... it was _Christmas_. The notion of the government organizing Christmas was too ridiculous for words. It was as ridiculous as Adam disguising himself as a mage, just so he could get to know Kris. As ridiculous as deciding you were in love with someone after you'd known them for only a week.

Kris sighed. He could probably search the mansion for _months_ without finding a way out, as long as Adam didn't want him to leave. Besides, even if he did find a door to outside, what then? There was no way to know if the ship would still be there, and that was assuming he'd make it to the end of the ice. Without a mage along to let them know he was coming, it would be hopeless.

"Adam?" It felt silly, to say Adam's name out loud to the empty air. Even if Adam maybe checked in on Kris every now and then, there was no reason to assume he'd hear Kris. "Can we maybe talk?"

"Just talk?" Adam asked, from the bed Kris had grown to think of as his.

_a conversation. a choice. a cut-off confession._

"Every year, I give people presents. For _centuries_. I mean that literally," Adam said, "unless age difference is a big issue for you, in which case I've only been doing this for about ten years."

"Your willingness to bend the truth in order to increase your appeal to me is noted." Kris tried to picture a life consisting only of giving things away, never getting anything for yourself.

It would probably be fun for a while. "Anyway, last year, I just got sick and tired of it all. I mean, Alli's great, and I love her to bits, but, well, she's a girl."

"You got lonely," Kris translated.

"I wanted someone I could have sex with. Which okay, I go to London sometimes and Simon's always happy to put me up, but ... "

"The mental image of you and Mr Cowell naked together? Do not want."

Adam rolled his eyes. "He was plenty good-looking once. Still is, actually, but never mind. We're friends, nothing more. The thing is: I wanted someone to be in love with."

"Two seconds ago, this was all about sex." Kris kind of got it, though. Wanting to have someone special, someone who could offer friendship and company and sex, too.

"I can fix it, you know," Adam said, looking hopeful and eager and maybe a little shy, like he was afraid that Kris was going to shoot him down or something.

Kris didn't even know what, precisely, Adam claimed to be able to do. "Fix what?"

"Last year's Christmas," Adam said. 

Kris chuckled. "What, you can reverse time?"

"Yes," Adam said simply. "I can make it so that nobody remembers these past two weeks. I can make it be December 25th of the year 1873 again, and this time, I can get everything right. I can even let there be snow."

Kris opened his mouth to say that that was fantastic, a perfect way to put an end to this whole mess, and then he realized what the first thing Adam had said actually meant. "Nobody?"

" _I_ would remember," Adam said. " _You_ wouldn't. You'd forget everything."

Kris licked his lips. They felt dry. "You could remind me."

"No, I couldn't. That's not how it works."

"So what you're saying that I can choose between having you or having Christmas?" Kris asked incredulously. "That's not fair!"

"I know."

"Because I'm going to choose Christmas," Kris went on. "Because I can't _not_ choose Christmas."

"I know."

Kris swallowed. Adam looked miserable. "Hey," he said, "just so you know: I lo- "

_the author wants a happy ending. the reader hopefully wants one, too._

The dawn of December 25th in the year 1873 found Kris Allen in bed, asleep and dreaming of the White Christmas his mother had wished for. Personally, Kris had prefered to ask for something more practical - a new pair of socks or mittens would come in handy, he'd thought, for all that his mother was always happy to knit him some.

"Kris?" The knock on the door came as a bit of a surprise; Kris knew it was likely Mr Seacrest would not simply let him spend the day lying about, yet he'd hoped to remain undisturbed until eleven at least, at which hour Mr Fuller would likely darken the doorstep of his apartment.

"I'm awake." Kris planned to be long gone by that time, of course.

"There's a - a _present_ for you here."

Kris frowned, puzzled at the clear hesitation. He quickly threw on some clothes and opened the door, there to be met with the sight of his mother, looking somewhat confused, and, standing next to her, a tall stranger who was attractive in a way that suggested much unnecessary effort. His hair looked dangerous.

"He says his name is Adam," his mother said, her gaze going from Kris to Adam and back again.

"Merry Christmas!" Adam beamed. "Please unwrap me in private."

"Um, I think there's been some sort of mistake?" Kris said weakly.

"Yes, indeed," Adam said cheerfully. "You got dressed! I think we can fix that pretty easily though. Pleasure to meet you, Mrs Allen, and don't you worry about your son."

Kris looked at his mother, hoping for a voice of sanity. Instead, all she said was: "I'll put an extra plate on the breakfast table," and then Adam beamed at her some more and she sort of smiled back at him, and then Adam was pushing Kris back into his room, talking about how this was going to be the best Christmas ever.

"But I don't even know you!" Kris protested, because, well, he didn't, and for all of Adam's enthusiasm, he couldn't really imagine Adam being all that genuinely excited about the prospect of having sex with a complete stranger, Christmas present or not (and since when were _people_ Christmas presents, anyway? Wasn't there some sort of law against that?)

"Oh." Adam stopped trying to get Kris's shirt off and looked at him. "I forgot."

"I could get to know you?" Kris felt obliged to offer. "And you could get to know me, too, of course. And then maybe if we both like each other, we can uh go on a date or something."

"You could get to know me naked?" Adam said, half-hopeful and half like he was already resigned to Kris turning him down.

Kris had been going to do just that, honestly, but instead, he found himself saying: "Well, okay."

Adam hugged him, which felt nice, not weird at all, and then he did something else which felt _very_ nice and maybe just the tiniest bit weird, because as he did it, Kris sort of felt like he _did_ know Adam, like maybe they'd done this before, which was quite impossible.

Outside, the snow stopped falling, leaving the city covered by a blanket of white.


End file.
